


oh, will you follow me?

by sushiboy



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, just pure woosan fluff for the masses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23602207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushiboy/pseuds/sushiboy
Summary: Choi San navigates life, love, and the mortifying ordeal of having friends who reallyreallycare about him.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 2
Kudos: 186





	oh, will you follow me?

**Author's Note:**

> this fic came to be bc my friend asked me when we were drunk to write her a woosan fic and i felt like i had to deliver. i usually write angsty stuff but this is not angsty at all so if it's awful, that's why. enjoy :)
> 
> (title from ateez's illusion)

_ Five times other people realized that Wooyoung and San liked each other, and one time they figured it out for themselves. _

**#1**

Most of the time, they’re in the practice rooms. That’s just how it is, especially for almost-debuted idols who need to spend every minute proving themselves. Who knows, if this moment will be the one that introduces them to a new fan, that gets them the vote they need to win on a music show, that buys the last ticket to sell out their concert venue? They sure as hell don’t, so every minute is spent on guard, practicing and wishing and waiting. 

Out of the twenty four hours in a day, San is sure that he spends at least eighteen of them dancing. It wasn’t something that came easily to him at first, so he worked at it diligently until he was good enough to debut, and now he works at it until he’s good enough to impress. Most of the time, he’s just really really tired, but there’s always fun in it, especially when he hits the beat of the song exactly right. And when Wooyoung’s with him—that’s fun too. 

When San first came to KQ, he knew it would be a hard road ahead of him, and his greatest worry was that he wouldn’t find the right people to follow the path with him. Instead, he found seven others more than willing to. He was worried that he wouldn’t find a best friend, someone to share his uncertainties with, but instead, he found Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung is unlike anyone he’s ever met before. He has a smile that never fades, even at the eighteenth hour of dance practice. He gives San energy that he didn’t even know he had in him. San finds a certain pride in that the fans are crazy about their dynamic, because he’s pretty crazy about it too. 

Now, San and Wooyoung are lying on the paneled wood floor, sweaty and exhausted from running through the choreo of their title track. Hongjoong had decided to split them up into pairs and take turns critiquing each other; San loves Wooyoung, but not so much in times like this. In times like this, it’s obvious how much more experienced Wooyoung is at dancing, and he doesn’t hesitate in pointing out San’s flaws. San knows it’s only for his own good, but he’s so tired that his  _ bones _ hurt.

“We should run it again, don’t you think?” Wooyoung asks. He’s breathing hard, staring up at the ceiling lights, sounding utterly unconvinced of his own suggestion. 

“We ran it like six times,” San replies, “ _ each _ .” 

“It’s not enough,” Wooyoung says, matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah,” San agrees, but neither of them make any attempt to move from their positions. 

“I’m hungry,” Wooyoung complains. “I want beef.” 

“We don’t have time for beef. We don’t have  _ money _ for beef,” San points out. 

“This sucks,” Wooyoung says. “Do you ever just regret it?” 

San thinks about it. “No,” he replies, resolutely. He’s put too much blood and sweat and sore throats and twisted ankles into regretting it now. If he hadn’t decided to try to become an idol, he wouldn’t have met the friends who are closest to him. He wouldn’t have met Wooyoung. 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says. “Me neither.” He rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself up onto his feet. “Come on,” he says, holding his arm out to San. San takes it, graciously. When Wooyoung pulls him up, his head starts to spin as blood rushes down to his toes. 

Wooyoung feels him stumble on his feet. “You okay?” he asks. San nods, but closes his eyes and bows his head to stop the dizziness that overcomes him. Wooyoung’s hand comes to the back of his neck, and San can’t help but step closer and rest his forehead on Wooyoung’s shoulder. Wooyoung rubs his neck comfortingly; he smells half like sweat and half like his favorite brand of perfume. This, the way that Wooyoung never fails to ground him, is something San wouldn’t give up for the world. 

The door swings open with a scrape. “Hey, guys, Hongjoong-hyung said that we’re good for practice today,” comes Jongho’s voice, and then a pause. “Oh,” he says. San isn’t sure why, but he’s too comfortable where he is to lift his head up to look at Jongho. 

Wooyoung lets go of San’s hand. He feels empty, all of a sudden, so he holds Wooyoung’s waist instead. “Okay, just give us a minute and we’ll be out,” Wooyoung says. 

Jongho makes an odd noise that San can’t place. “Yeah, take your time,” Jongho says and then, “Sorry,” before shutting the door. 

“Why’d he say sorry?” San asks, and Wooyoung hums under his breath. The sound of Wooyoung’s voice is soft in San’s ear, and it reverberates through Wooyoung’s body and into San’s. 

“Don’t know,” Wooyoung replies. “He’s weird.” San laughs. 

They stay like that until San’s lightheadedness fades. When they join the rest of the group, Jongho doesn’t meet San’s eyes, but San just chalks it up to exhaustion. 

“Hey, hyung, can we get beef?” San asks Seonghwa, who rolls his eyes. 

“We have leftovers at home,” he says, and Mingi groans. San gives Wooyoung an apologetic look, but Wooyoung just smiles in return.

**#2**

It’s not like San didn’t  _ know  _ Wooyoung is attractive. It’s just that, during a sleepless night, San is screwing around on Twitter, ends up in Wooyoung’s hashtag, and spends three hours going through it. That’s when it hits him—Wooyoung is not only attractive, but he’s also San’s  _ type _ .

When Wooyoung dances, he’s sharp and sexy and confident, but the demeanor changes entirely when he’s off stage. His dimpled smile, full cheeks, and childish actions are so cute that it makes San’s heart ache. The duality is almost too much to handle. He gets the sudden realization that if he weren’t in the group itself, he would probably be Wooyoung’s fan. 

San isn’t sure whether to be ashamed of his thoughts. Wooyoung is Wooyoung and Wooyoung is his best friend, regardless if he’s performing for the camera or not. 

“Hey,” Yunho starts one night, when San is tugging his earphones out of his desk drawer to listen to some music before bed. “You know, if you ask me to switch rooms with Wooyoung, I’m going to say no.”

“What?” San asks. Yunho rolls his eyes.

“Um, I hear you talking to him at night, you know. While the reason why you need to talk on the phone in bed when you see each other all day and can just go out into the dining room like normal people is beyond me, I’m not judging. I’m just saying, I’m not rooming with Yeosang. I’m already in fear of my life as it is.” 

“We don’t talk on the phone at night,” is all San can reply. He’s  _ so  _ confused.

“Right,” Yunho says. “I literally hear his voice through your earphones and then you mutter gross sappy things under your breath. I’m stupid, but not  _ that _ stupid.” 

“I’m not going to ask you to switch rooms with Wooyoung,” San says. Yunho gives him a suspicious look, but then acquiesces. 

“Okay, good,” he says, and turns away from San, rolling himself up in his blankets. San plugs in his earphones half in a daze from the conversation.  _ Gross sappy things _ ? San wishes Yunho wasn’t so right, even if it was not, in fact, Wooyoung’s actual voice, but clips of him from compilation videos on YouTube, and San wasn’t saying any of that to Wooyoung directly. 

Did Yunho think...did Yunho think that they were...no, San doesn’t even want to think about it. San’s never lied to himself about liking guys, but not Wooyoung. This thing...San is just confused. 

It still takes him a long time to fall asleep after that. 

**#3**

Mingi’s been looking at San weird lately. It’s weird because San knows that Mingi prides himself on being blissfully unaware of any tension or drama between the eight of them, and Mingi looking at him weird means that he’s  _ noticed _ something. 

San spends a week avoiding being alone in the same room as Mingi, which is hard considering he spends all of his time with the same people. Yunho notices, because he and Mingi are both gremlins that share everything with each other, but Yunho’s noticed from the beginning. 

It’s a slow morning when Mingi finally corners him in the kitchen and says, “San, is there something you need to tell me about?” in a false angelic voice.

“Nope,” San replies, and abandons his plate of eggs and bacon to run to the bathroom. He’s so preoccupied with locking the door behind him that he doesn’t see Wooyoung buttoning up his jeans and moving to the sink to wash his hands. San, mortified, presses himself into the corner behind Wooyoung, who turns to him, hands on his hips. 

“What’s the hurry?” Wooyoung asks, the picture of calm, and San wants to  _ perish _ . 

“Mingi is bothering me,” San lies, and as if on cue, someone knocks on the door. 

“San, are you in there?” comes Mingi’s voice. Wooyoung rolls his eyes at San.

“Go away, Mingi,” Wooyoung says. There’s an unintelligible choking noise from the other side of the door.

“Is San in there  _ with you _ ?” Mingi asks incredulously.

“We’re having a conversation,” Wooyoung snipes back. 

“Ugh,” Mingi replies, disgusted. “I’ve already learned everything I wanted to know, in the worst way possible, so thanks for that,” he says sarcastically and his footsteps get loud and then softer as he walks away. San almost wants to run after him to tell him he’s got the wrong idea, but Wooyoung’s gaze stops him in his tracks. 

“Sorry,” San apologizes. “I think Mingi thinks something that I don’t want him to think so—” 

“No problem,” Wooyoung interrupts, turning back to the sink and squeezing toothpaste onto his brush. “We all have things that we don’t really want to talk about.” And yes, San’s joked about Wooyoung being his soulmate before, but the way Wooyoung just  _ knows  _ what he’s thinking before he says it—that feeling will never get old. 

“Do you?” San asks instinctively. 

“I don’t know, sort of,” Wooyoung replies, his voice muffled as he brushes his teeth. San waits as he spits into the sink and washes out his mouth with water. “I have something, but I’m not really scared of telling people. It’s just never come up, you know.”

_ Now  _ San is curious. “Care to share?” he asks. 

Wooyoung shrugs a little. “It’s just, I like boys. And girls, but I like boys too. That’s all.” 

It’s said so nonchalantly that San doesn’t even process it at first. “Okay,” he says, and then, “Wait, what?” 

“I mean, if you have a  _ problem _ with it,” Wooyoung starts, but San cuts him off. 

“Of course not,” San says sharply. “I like guys too, actually. Pretty exclusively.” 

Wooyoung turns to him with widening eyes. “Really?” he asks. “Honestly, I was pretty sure I was the only gay person in this group.” 

“I’m a pretty good actor,” San replies. Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, reaches out to grab San’s wrist, tugs him closer. 

“You shouldn’t have to act,” Wooyoung says. His eyes are sparkling and sincere. Wooyoung is a couple centimeters shorter than San, and they’re close enough that Wooyoung has to tilt his head up slightly to look San in the eye. San gets the urge to hold Wooyoung’s face with his hands, pull him up to connect their lips—

“Um,” San mutters, desperate to cut off the trajectory of his thought process. Wooyoung reaches up to pat San’s cheek with his soft hand. It smells like the lavender hand soap that Seonghwa buys for them. 

“I’m proud of you, Sannie, you know that?” Wooyoung says. If Wooyoung’s cheeks and ears weren’t tinged pink, San would entirely believe that he was unaffected by their proximity. Not that it matters, because San can see his own face in the mirror above the sink, and it is flaming. 

San closes his eyes. “I’m proud of you too, Wooyoungie,” he replies. He doesn’t have to see Wooyoung’s face to know that he’s smiling. 

“Hey,” Mingi’s muffled voice interrupts, “not sure why you guys are still in there, but I kinda need to pee so—”

The tension is broken. Wooyoung dissolves into laughter, and his hand drops from San’s face, but his other hand stays in San’s. He unlocks the door and pulls San through to the other side—the look on Mingi’s face is far too triumphant for San’s liking. 

“If you breathe a  _ word _ of  _ any  _ of this to  _ anyone _ …” San hisses once Wooyoung lets go and continues on his way. Mingi just grins. 

“Don’t worry,” Mingi says, “I’m pretty sure they already know,” and shuts the door on San’s face.

San hates this fucking family. 

**#4**

After that, San never stops thinking about Wooyoung. It would have been cute if it wasn’t so  _ obsessive _ , if San could do as much as look at a stupid owl plush toy and not wonder if Wooyoung would like it. 

(He sees it in a claw machine and then promptly blows 10,000 won trying to win it. Yeosang is with him and laughs like a maniac when he hesitantly explains why he’d been so determined to get it. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Yeosang says, “I’m sure Wooyoung will love it.” 

“I’m such an idiot,” San groans. When he gives the plushie to Wooyoung, Wooyoung grins a 1000-watt grin and holds it to his chest like it’s a treasure, and San would’ve paid way more than 10,000 won if it meant he could see Wooyoung smile like that 

“You got this for me?” Wooyoung says, and San nods. “I  _ love _ you,” Wooyoung continues, and San knows he doesn’t mean it like that, but he can’t help but hope—) 

So, San’s kind of accepted that he has a crush on Wooyoung. It’s not a problem; he’s never had any crush last over a couple months, so he’s hoping the feelings will fade soon. 

Instead, they only get stronger. It’s a  _ problem _ .

And when San has a problem, there’s only one place he can think to go. 

“Hyung,” San calls, catching up to Hongjoong as they leave the practice room after a long day. It’s somewhere between 12 and 1 AM, yet Hongjoong’s probably still going to the studio to work on music.

“Yeah, San, what is it?” Hongjoong asks and he looks so exhausted that San regrets bothering him. 

“Never mind, it’s okay,” San says, shaking his head. Hongjoong narrows his eyes and grabs onto San’s upper arm. 

“You’re not getting away that easy,” Hongjoong warns. “What’s up?” 

San sighs, a little dramatically. “It’s a long story, hyung. You’re not gonna be able to hear it all unless you come home.” 

Hongjoong purses his lips. “This better not just be a way to get me to not go to the studio tonight.”

“It’s not!” San protests. “But it would be nice if you got six hours of sleep tonight, right?” 

“Yeah,” Hongjoong agrees, shrugging. “It would be.” 

By the time they’re back at the dorm and finished showering, it’s already past one. Hongjoong’s curled up on the couch in the living room with a towel in his hair and San makes sure no one else is lurking around before sitting next to him. 

“So, I kind of have a situation,” San starts. When San and Hongjoong talk like this, Hongjoong has figured out that it takes San a while to come out with the important parts. For now, he just watches and waits. 

San says, “A couple of the members, they have this idea about me. About me and...well, Wooyoung. We’re really close, hyung. Really good friends. And I’m kinda gay and Wooyoung’s kinda bi. Oh, fuck, I just came out for him, I’m such an asshole—” 

“Don’t worry, Wooyoung’s already told me,” Hongjoong interrupts. “Go on.” 

San bites his lip in hesitance. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m sure you can guess where this is going and if it makes you uncomfortable—”

Hongjoong sits up on the couch, leveling San with a single look. Hongjoong, most of the time, is fun and charming and easy to tease, but he’s also strong, sharp, and dependable, especially when San needs him to be. 

“I’m your leader, Sannie.” Hongjoong says. “And I’ve told you before that you can come to me with anything. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, and if you want to talk about it, so do I? Got it?” 

San pauses, and then nods. “Good,” Hongjoong replies. “Now keep going.” 

“So me and Wooyoung are really good friends, but I think I got it in my head that we’re...more than that. And it’s ruining my  _ life _ , Hongjoong-hyung. Wooyoung is...a lot.” 

Hongjoong snorts. “Yeah, I bet. So, you like him?” 

San swallows. “No,” he lies. Hongjoong gives him a  _ look _ . “Okay, fine. It’s not a hard no, but it’s not a yes either.” 

“It’s okay to have feelings for him, you know. ” Hongjoong says, just as Seonghwa bustles into the living room, hefting a vacuum in one of his arms. 

“Feelings for who?” Seonghwa says. “What’s Hongjoong saying, Sannie?” 

“ _ Nothing _ ,” San hisses, as Hongjoong says, “San has a  _ crush _ .” Seonghwa makes a gagging noise. 

“Ew, imagine having genuine emotions for someone. I can’t relate,” Seonghwa says. He puts the vacuum down on the carpet and plugs it into the wall. Hongjoong rolls his eyes. 

“First of all, you’re right, second of all, are you really going to vacuum at this hour?” Hongjoong asks. 

“Yunho told me that Mingi left Dorito crumbs all over the carpet. What else am I supposed to do?” Seonghwa replies. 

“Um, live with it like a normal person?” Hongjoong suggests. 

Seonghwa starts the vacuum anyway. Hongjoong scoffs and drags San by the wrist back to his and Seonghwa’s shared room. It’s so much cleaner than San and Yunho could ever hope to be. 

“I mean, I think Seonghwa-hyung has genuine emotions,” San says, rolling onto Hongjoong’s bed. Hongjoong sits at the end of it and crosses his arms. 

“Yeah,” Hongjoong replies, “Seonghwa just gets fucking weird at this hour.” 

San makes a face. “You’re  _ both  _ fucking weird, hyung,” he says. 

Hongjoong waves his hand through the air dismissively. “Ugh, enough about me, okay? Let’s talk about  _ your _ crush on Wooyoung.” 

“It’s not like that, hyung,” San whines. “I’m not freaked out that I might have a crush on him. It’s that it’s  _ more _ than a crush. I’ve been thinking about him, like, nonstop for months. That’s not temporary, or fleeting.”

Hongjoong pauses. “Oh,” he says. 

“Yeah,” San says. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?” 

“No,” Hongjoong replies. “If there’s anyone in this stupid group that cares about you like that, it’s Wooyoung.” 

San sighs. “Hongjoong-hyung, we’re idols. Even if it did work out, it would change everything.” 

“Would it?” Hongjoong asks. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but you guys aren’t shy in front of the camera. Would it really change everything?” 

San laughs in surprise. “Jesus, hyung. How am I supposed to know?” 

Hongjoong shrugs. “Just food for thought, kiddo.” San groans, and the vacuuming noise from outside the room finally slows to a stop. Seonghwa comes back in the room the same way he’d left and deposits the vacuum in the corner. 

“All clean now,” he says with a smile. San thinks all the late nights have made him positively psychotic. “Now tell me about the feelings. I’ve been dying for some information ever since Yeosang told me that you and Wooyoung were dating.”

“We’re  _ not _ ,” San insists. “Yeosang is just a demon.”

“He is,” Hongjoong agrees, “but he might be right about this one.” 

San is just about done with this. “It’s not something to  _ joke  _ about, hyung!” he bursts out. “I'm, like, in love with him! It’s scary! And if you’re not going to take it seriously, I’m just going to—” San sits up from the bed and swings his legs off but Seonghwa grabs his arm before he can leave. 

“Hold on, San,” he says. “It’s not that it’s not serious, you drama queen. It’s that it  _ shouldn’t _ be. If you want to be with him, so what?” 

“If you’re happy with Wooyoung, you should tell him,” Hongjoong adds. “It’s not like he’s going to say no.” 

_ But what if he does _ , San thinks, but doesn’t say. “I’m scared,” he just repeats, so Seonghwa sits next to him and squeezes him into a side hug. 

“Whether you do, or don’t, it’s okay,” Seonghwa says, and rubs San’s shoulder comfortingly.

“This is so weird,” San says. “I’m not used to the two of you being nice to me.” Hongjoong makes an offended noise and reaches over to pinch San on the arm as retribution. Seonghwa just laughs when San yelps.

“Excuse me, we are angels,” Hongjoong replies, his voice teasing. “Show some respect to your hyungs.”

San considers it for a second. “Nah, that’s no fun,” he concludes. He’s glad when Seonghwa and Hongjoong start to bicker with him, because the odd tension in the room starts to fade away. Still, he’s grateful for Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s words, even if they don’t make the pit in his stomach when he thinks about Wooyoung feel any better. 

He kind of thought that being in love for the first time would be fun, but instead it’s just stressful. Maybe he should just rip the bandaid off and tell Wooyoung the truth. Still, the idea of Wooyoung’s bright eyes going dark is enough to keep his mouth shut. He imagines Wooyoung saying something like, “I might like guys, but I don’t like  _ you _ ,” and finds that he can’t imagine it at all. Wooyoung has taken all of San’s nervous smiles and foolish ideas and turned them into something beautiful. San can’t imagine Wooyoung ever pushing him down. 

The thought makes the pit in San’s stomach feel a little better.

**#5**

Wooyoung and San are drinking. Well, to be honest, all of them are, because they’d all started with beer at the hotpot place, and then once they’d got home, Seonghwa had dug out more snacks and a few bottles of soju. But Wooyoung’s drank the most so far, along with Yunho and Jongho, courtesy of having the highest tolerances. San tries to keep up with him, and then everything hits him all at once so he can barely stand. 

Mingi’s being louder than usual while Yunho tries to strangle him for unknown reasons, and San lies on the couch barely processing his surroundings. Hongjoong, who’s just as gone as Mingi is, tries to press a shot glass to San’s lips; San just wrestles the glass and the bottle out of Hongjoong’s hands. 

“I’m cutting you off, hyung,” San says, forcing himself to sound out the words. Hongjoong doesn’t even protest, just slumps his head onto San’s legs. Wooyoung looks over the back of the couch and raises his eyebrows.

“You two look comfortable,” he comments, and snatches the shot glass, tipping the liquor into his mouth. Wooyoung looks beautiful, face flushed and hair mussed. “I was looking for that,” he says to the bottle, and holds up the cap. San dutifully holds up the bottle so Wooyoung can twist the cap back on. 

“Seonghwa knocked out on the floor, so I figured we should probably stop drinking,” Wooyoung says. San nods sagely, and Wooyoung responds with a smirk. It’s a pretty smirk. San likes when Wooyoung’s hair is blonde, especially when it starts to curl up like it’s doing now. He looks fairly put together compared to some of the others (Mingi), but San can tell he’s drunk from the glazed look in his eyes. San doesn’t want to stop looking. 

When Wooyoung walks away, Hongjoong turns his head on San’s knees to look at San balefully. “You’re gay,” he says.

“We know,” San replies. Hongjoong laughs, but it’s cut off by a shriek, because Mingi’s finally crawled away from Yunho’s assault and is wrapping Hongjoong up in a bear hug. 

“Hyung, Yunho’s being mean,” he whines. Mingi’s always cute when he’s drunk, especially when he’s pouting. San  _ knows _ that Hongjoong can’t resist. Hongjoong picks his head up to bury it in Mingi’s neck.

“You’re being too loud, Mingi-ya, my head hurts,” Hongjoong’s muffled voice replies. San snorts; Mingi just whines louder. 

San loses track of time staring at the ceiling while his head spins, until a weight presses over his chest. It’s funny—even when his brain isn’t at full capacity, he can recognize Wooyoung from the warmth of his touch.

“I’m tired, Sannie,” Wooyoung says. His breath is hot on San’s neck and smells like soju. San wants to drown in it.

“Then go to sleep,” San replies. He can’t see Wooyoung’s face, but he can feel how Wooyoung brightens, as if he hadn’t considered the idea. San can’t help but smile—Wooyoung is so  _ cute _ . 

“They won’t care if we leave, right?” Wooyoung whispers, his voice suddenly worried. 

“We?” San asks, stupidly. 

Wooyoung sits up, balancing himself on San’s legs. “Well, yes. You’re really warm, Sannie, don’t make me leave,” he says, and pouts. No force in the universe could make San say no to him. 

“They won’t care,” San says, and Wooyoung scrambles to his feet. Hongjoong and Mingi have disappeared from the foot of the couch, but San is so drunk off of Wooyoung that he can’t even begin to care where they’ve gone. Wooyoung drags San into his room; in the back of his mind, San is aware that there could be a not-so-innocent connotation behind this, but a bigger part of his brain just really wants to hold Wooyoung in his arms. Wooyoung toes off his socks and jumps into his covers without even changing out of his jeans. 

San strips off his sweater and jeans, leaving on the thin shirt and boxers underneath, and crawls into bed after Wooyoung. They’ve slept together—not like  _ that _ —before but it’s different now, because this time, instead of them falling asleep while watching YouTube on their phones or on the couch after a long day of practice, this time, Wooyoung  _ asked _ . And San could never deny him. 

“I’m tired, San-ah,” Wooyoung mumbles under his breath. San doesn’t even have to ask before Wooyoung presses himself closer, and San’s arms go around him instinctively. He can’t tell if he’s dizzy from the alcohol or the proximity.

“You’re going to be uncomfortable in those clothes, Woo-ya,” San tells him patiently. In the thin light spilling in from under the closed door, San sees Wooyoung pout. Their faces are  _ so _ close. 

Wooyoung’s delicate fingers go to the buttons of his shirt, but fumble at undoing them. They’re already unbuttoned down to his sternum, and San’s fingers brush against bare skin as he nudges Wooyoung’s hands out of the way. He tries not to let blood rush to his face when Wooyoung peels off the shirt, leaving miles of perfect pale skin in San’s eyeline.

“This is pretty gay,” Wooyoung says, as he unbuttons his jeans and tugs them off. San averts his eyes and presses his hand over his mouth before he says something he’ll regret. Wooyoung doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest that he’s half naked and still so close to San. He throws his clothes over San’s body to the floor and then stretches himself out. 

“You’re crazy,” San says, unable to process any other coherent thought. “You’re just crazy.” 

“That’s why you love me,” Wooyoung replies. “Now, come be the big spoon.” 

San can't say no. He wraps his arms around Wooyoung’s middle and pulls Wooyoung close, entangling their legs together. There’s still hints of the scent of Wooyoung’s perfume on the nape of his neck. San is so,  _ so _ sober now. 

He’s not sure when he drifts off to sleep, but he’s very startlingly awoken when the lights in the room flick on. San blinks his eyes open—Wooyoung has rolled himself out of San’s embrace so his face is nearly level with San’s, and San watches how his eyelashes flutter gently against his cheeks. 

“San? Is that you?” comes Yeosang’s irritated voice. San hates Yeosang’s irritated voice. He turns his head over his shoulder to eye his friend. 

“Yes,” San replies. “What about it?” 

“This isn’t your room, and that isn’t your bed,” Yeosang shoots back. It’s clear that he’s woken up from sleep, and his eyes are bloodshot red. It makes San feel a little more sympathetic, but not  _ that _ much. 

“It’s like, three in the morning, anyway,” San complains. “Why are you turning on lights?” 

“Wooyoung never wakes up when I turn on the light,” Yeosang retorts. He’s pulling pajamas out of the closet and changing into them as he grumbles under his breath. When he’s finished, he stomps over to the light and turns it off pointedly. “Happy now?” he asks. 

San doesn’t reply. Wooyoung is still fast asleep, and doesn’t even shift when San laces their hands together. San hears the rustling of sheets as Yeosang curls up in his own bed. 

“Yeosangie,” San calls, his heart suddenly going warm. “I like Wooyoung. I really really like him.” 

Yeosang’s answering voice is half-exasperated, half-fond. “Tell  _ him _ that, not me.” 

“I will,” San replies. The curve of Wooyoung’s face is soft and beautiful. “I will.” His eyes are drooping with sleep, and Yeosang’s voice is growing heavy just the same. 

“Just a heads up, though,” Yeosang says. “There’s no  _ way _ I’m switching rooms with you.” 

San laughs. “Don’t worry,” he assures. “There’s no way Yunho would room with you either.” 

“He’s  _ such _ an ass,” Yeosang scoffs. “Made me take shots with him like I have the tolerance to keep up when I  _ don’t.  _ My head is going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow.” 

“Nah, he’s cute,” San says. 

Yeosang grumbles under his breath. “Yeah, he’s pretty cute.”

“He’s pretty cute,” San repeats, quietly to himself. He’s definitely not talking about Yunho anymore. 

**+1**

It doesn’t take long for San to decide that, if he’s going to do this, he’s going to go  _ all out.  _ He waits, a long time, for them to be granted a day off, to put his plan into action.

Except, it all goes wrong. They’d had a late night, so they don’t end up dragging themselves out of bed until noon, and then Hongjoong makes San and Mingi go on a grocery trip to refill their empty fridge and pantry. All the fun things that San had planned to do with Wooyoung in the morning—cereal for breakfast, video games, then a mid morning nap on the couch, then more video games—go to waste. 

By the time the shopping is finished (and San and Mingi have run through their three mandatory purchase-related arguments), Wooyoung and Jongho have mysteriously disappeared from the dorm. San can’t help but feel a stab of jealousy. He knows he should just text Wooyoung, and that he hadn’t even asked Wooyoung to spend the day with him and just kind of assumed that he would, but instead San sulks in his room, scrolling through Twitter on his cellphone.

Wooyoung comes back at 3 in the afternoon with a new pair of bright white sneakers. It makes San feel better when Wooyoung beelines to his room to show him the purchase first. There’s still the rest of the day ahead of them—which gives San plenty of time to figure out just exactly how to tell him. 

“Hey,” San says, “do you wanna go get coffee or something? There’s this cafe that just opened up that Yunho said was really trendy.” 

Wooyoung shrugs. “I’m down for whatever,” he replies, so they take the bus from the stop across from their dorm building. The cafe  _ is _ trendy, decorated with stylish wood furniture and string lights. The menu is written in colored chalk above the counter where they order their drinks—a vanilla latte for San and an iced coffee for Wooyoung. 

At least the coffee is good, but Wooyoung is evidently distracted as he sips at his coffee. He avoids San’s eyes to look at his phone while San stammers through conversation. It’s never been this awkward between them before, and San can’t tell which one of them is the cause of it. 

Outside the glass windows, it starts to rain. 

“I didn’t bring a jacket,” Wooyoung says. “The rain always fucks up my hair.”

“You can borrow mine,” San replies immediately. Wooyoung’s answering smile just makes him want to drown. Wooyoung is his best friend, and San was  _ stupid _ to think he could be anything more. 

“I wanted to do so much,” San mourns. “But now it’s raining.” Despite it still being afternoon, the clouds shield the sun from view. 

Wooyoung hums, and reaches across the table to put his hand over San’s. “That’s okay, Sannie. There’s always other days.”

San shakes his head. There’s a lump in his throat. “This is important. It’s really important. It can’t wait.”

“Then let’s do it anyway,” Wooyoung suggests.  _ You don’t know what I mean _ , San thinks desperately. “When have we ever let a little rain stop us?”

“Are you sure?” San asks. “Your hair—it’ll get wet.”

Wooyoung laughs. “My hair? It really doesn’t matter. If it’ll make you happy, let’s go.”

“It’s not anywhere in particular,” San explains lamely. “It’s just…something. Something I have to do. Something important.” 

Wooyoung just stands up and takes both of their cups to throw in the trash. He takes San’s zip up hoodie that’s hanging over the back of his chair and throws it over himself. He holds his hand out to San. 

San takes it. 

As soon as they leave, San is already soaked to the bone, but Wooyoung doesn’t let go of his hand, and from their pressed palms, warmth sparks into his veins. San pulls Wooyoung to the bus stop, and the rain splatters hard on the plastic roof above them. 

There are other people scurrying by on the sidewalk, books or bags held over their heads to protect them from the downpour, but the only person that San can see is Wooyoung. His face is wet with raindrops, and San wriggles his hand out of Wooyoung’s grasp and wipes the water off of his cheeks like tears. 

“So?” Wooyoung asks, quiet under the thunder rain. “Where are we going?”

“Wherever you want,” San replies. “Whatever, wherever, as long as it’s with you, I don’t care.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. “Sweet sentiment, but you’re not making sense, Sannie,” he points out. San’s heart is beating a thousand miles an hour in his chest.

“I know,” he admits. “I just—I don’t know how to tell you that you mean everything to me. I’d go anywhere with you. I don’t know how to tell you—” San hesitates, then takes Wooyoung’s hand again. He unfurls Wooyoung’s fingers and pulls him close, splaying Wooyoung’s hand over his heart. Wooyoung’s expression starts confused, until San sees his eyes widen. “Do you get it now?” he asks, desperate. He needs Wooyoung, needs him to understand what San can’t say with words. 

The sound of the wind is loud in San’s ears. Wooyoung closes his eyes, takes a visible breath, opens them again. “I hope so,” he says, and kisses San square on the mouth. 

“Did I get it?” Wooyoung whispers, quiet against San’s lips. When he pulls away, his cheeks are dusted pink. San loses the ability to form words, and just nods in response. 

Wooyoung blushes darker. “Good,” he says. “I like you, Sannie. I want to kiss you every day. I just didn’t know if you liked me too.” 

San sputters out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? It was so obvious.”

Wooyoung shakes his head. His hand, which had drifted up from San’s chest to his shoulder during the kiss, moves to San’s cheek, and cups it in his hand. “You make me nervous, Choi San. In the best way, I think.” 

San can’t help but let his face split into a smile. Sure, they’re still in public, but Wooyoung’s gaze is soft all the way through, and San doesn’t care if anyone’s looking. He wouldn’t give this up for the world. 

On the bus ride home, they hold hands so tight that it feels like San’s fingers are going to go numb. 

“It was so awkward in the cafe,” San says. “I was nervous.” 

“I was too,” Wooyoung admits. “We’ve been so busy lately that we haven’t gotten time to be alone together but if I’m being honest, I think I was avoiding you a little. Just so you wouldn’t notice.” 

“I was hoping  _ you _ wouldn’t notice  _ me _ ,” San replies. 

Wooyoung laughs breathily. “We’re a little bit stupid, I think,” he says. San pretends not to notice when Wooyoung moves a tiny bit closer, pressing their thighs and arms together. The lack of space between them is comfortable, rather than stifling. 

The bus slows at their stop, and Wooyoung practically drags San back to their dorm. The rain is lighter on their skin than before, but when the air conditioning of the building kicks in, they’re both shivering. 

Seonghwa is in the kitchen drinking tea and reading a book like the old man that he is. He rolls his eyes when he looks up at them. “Don’t get pneumonia,” he says. San can barely hear him over Wooyoung’s giggles in his ear. Wooyoung is clinging to San’s arm, leaning his weight onto him. When San looks back at Seonghwa, the older boy winks. 

Yeosang is taking a nap on the living room couch, so San doesn’t feel bad when Wooyoung pulls him into his room. Wooyoung takes two towels from the closet, throws one around his shoulders, and the other over San’s head. San takes Wooyoung by the wrist and tugs him closer; Wooyoung’s arms come up to wrap around San’s neck and the kiss that they share then is so much better than the one at the bus stop. 

Wooyoung is still wearing San’s hoodie, and as Wooyoung kisses him, San’s hand moves to unzip it and push the wet cloth off of Wooyoung’s shoulders. Wooyoung’s bare skin is clammy but San doesn’t want to ever stop touching. 

“Come on,” Wooyoung says when he pulls away. “Let me dry your hair.” He sits cross legged on the floor, Wooyoung kneeling behind San. San pulls off his soaked shirt and lets Wooyoung dry off his hair and back. When Wooyoung places a kiss on the curve of San’s shoulder, San shivers. Wooyoung makes him feel warm all over.

San turns around in his spot to return the favor, squeezing the rain water out of Wooyoung’s hair. He smothers Wooyoung with his towel until Wooyoung is laughing and kicking out, and then San flips the towel out of Wooyoung’s face to kiss him on the cheek. 

Wooyoung’s eyes are shining. It was his eyes that got San first, because they were always so full of mirth when he was laughing, full of stars when he was smiling, full of tears when he was crying. 

“What was it for you?” San asks. “Why did you notice me?”

“Hmmm,” Wooyoung muses. “I think it was your eyes, you know. They’re so sharp, at first, but then once I got to know you, I learned to tell how you were feeling from them. The window to your soul and all that.” 

San almost laughs. “Sweet sentiment,” he says, echoing Wooyoung from earlier, and Wooyoung grins, and they fall into each other again. San ends up curled around Wooyoung on the floor. He’s no longer cold.

“This feels so  _ normal _ ,” San marvels. “Not like it’s a bad thing, but it’s like—” 

“Like we’ve been like this the whole time,” Wooyoung finishes, quietly. 

“Oh,” San says. “I guess the others were kind of right, after all.”

Wooyoung smiles. “That’s okay. We don’t have to tell,” he says, and seals the secret between their lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos/a comment if you liked it!


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